


Teaching John

by orphan_account



Series: Glass Cases [4]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Aftercare, Anal Beads, Anal Sex, BDSM, Bondage, Cock Cages, Dark Sherlock, Dom Sherlock, Domme Irene, Electricity, Gags, M/M, Multi, Nipple Clamps, Oral Sex, Orgasm Control, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Past Drug Use, Prostate Massage, Sexual Slavery, Stockholm Syndrome, Strap-Ons, Sub Irene, Sub John, Vaginal Sex, Vibrators, Whipping
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-22
Updated: 2014-05-27
Packaged: 2018-01-26 02:48:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,799
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1671854
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>AU: Sherlock Holmes is an engineer with a sex slave named Irene Adler. Two days ago, he kidnapped his second slave, army veteran John Watson.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. What Makes a Good Boy

John wakes up on the bondage table. "Fuck," he says under his breath. He is, of course, naked. He is lying on his back, with his arms stretched straight past his head. Each of his wrists is tied down to a corner of the table. His legs are bent at the knees, open wide, and lifted so that his calves are parallel to his back. His ankles hang by ropes tied to gymnastic rings suspended from the ceiling. His arsehole and cock are exposed, at the edge of the table. He isn't hard at the moment.

He lifts his head and sees a woman, who he figures is Irene, standing naked a few feet from the table. Her hair is in a ponytail. She is hairless everywhere besides her head. Her wrists are in front of her belly, bound together by a metal clasp, and connected by chain to another gymnastic ring hanging from the ceiling. The chain leads from the ring down to Irene's wrists and then back up to a collar around her neck, and then it continues in a heavy line down the middle of her chest to a metal belt around her lower waist. The chain goes down further, but John can't see below the belt.

Sherlock enters the room, closing the door behind him. He is wearing a brown silk dressing gown, tied around his waist. "How are my toys?" He says to the room.

Irene and John look at each other.

"Ah, yes," Sherlock says, as he starts walking towards Irene. "Irene, this is John. John, Irene." Sherlock looks at both of them in turn. Once he's standing next to Irene, he slips two fingers between her legs. She's moist but not wet enough yet. He withdraws his fingers and lifts them up to her mouth. She licks them. "Good girl," Sherlock praises. He walks over to John's crotch and fondles the bound man's cock gently. John shuts his eyes. "No, no, Dr. Watson. Open," Sherlock orders.

John opens his eyes, but he doesn't want to see what S is doing to him. He looks behind S, at Irene. He wonders if Irene's ankles are clasped together like her wrists; they probably are. John thinks, if he were in Irene's position, he would try to grab onto the chain, then lift his entire body weight upwards -- like in rope climbing, which he has done hundreds of times in the army -- and then kick S with both feet. But John doesn't see any keys around, so he wouldn't be able to free himself from the clasps and chains anyway.

"You like my Irene, do you?" Sherlock says to John. "Well, maybe I'll let you two play. Irene, come here."

"Yes, sir." Irene approaches S. As she does, the chain connecting her wrists to the ring force her to slowly raise her arms. By the time she's next to S, her arms are over her head, and there is little slack left in the chain.

Sherlock still has one hand curled around John's cock. "Put this in your mouth, Irene."

John breathes hard.

Irene bends to take in the head of John's cock. The head is as far as she can take, given her restraints.

Sherlock lets go of John's cock and steps back. He commands, "Suck, Irene," and she does. Ten seconds later, he orders her to stop. She stills her mouth around John, who is breathing shallowly. "Now, John," Sherlock says, "if you want this oral service to continue, you're going to have to thrust."

John knows what S is making him do. John has let S kiss him, and he has let S wank him to the finish. But he hasn't done more than receive.

"You're going to have to actively fuck her mouth," Sherlock reiterates.

"What if I don't want to?" John asks.

"Then both of you will stay in that position," Sherlock pauses, "until I change my mind." Sherlock goes to stand behind Irene, and then fingers her cunt slowly. She moans. John feels the vocal vibration in his cock. Sherlock continues. He rubs, presses and pinches Irene's clit, occasionally pushing one or two fingertips insider her. When he deems her sufficiently wet, he unties his robe, allowing it to open, revealing his naked form underneath. His cock is almost completely hard. He strokes it only a few times, and then he guides it into Irene's pussy, with one hand on her hip.

Irene and Sherlock both moan. John works hard to keep himself from thrusting. He grits his teeth.

Sherlock pushes his cock into Irene slowly. He pulls out until just the head is inside, and then pushes in again to the base. He reaches both hands forwards and rubs one of Irene's nipples in each. He continues his slow fucking.

Irene's shoulders are uncomfortable from keeping her arms up and bent slightly backwards. She ignores the discomfort in favour of focusing on not coming until S says she can. S's cock pushing into her feels wonderfully gentle, and if she thinks of only his slow pumps, then it's almost like S is making love to her. Occasionally he punctuates his leisurely thrusts by pinching her nipples, which sends waves of sharp tingling all over her body. She can almost tune out the discomfort in her arms and the cockhead in her mouth that isn't S's. She allows herself to enjoy this.

Because of the slow pace, Sherlock is nowhere near close. But Irene must be, especially after last night's edging. Sherlock pulls out of Irene, which elicits a muffled whimper from her. He takes a Hitachi magic wand from a drawer under the table, then returns to his position behind her. He reinserts his cock in her pussy, all the way to the hilt, then doesn't move. He turns on the wand and pushes it onto Irene's clit. She shivers. "I want you to tell me when you can't hold it in any more, Irene," Sherlock says.

Irene whines, and licks all around John's cockhead to distract herself from her groin. John groans. Irene's orgasm builds quickly, both because of the wand and because S's cock is fully nestled inside her. She wants him hard inside her cunt all the time. She will do all the work if she has to. Under the current circumstances, she will bear S's sessions -- because she has no choice and because something is better than nothing -- but after all of the sex games she has played throughout her life, what she really wants is for S to screw her tenderly, while caressing her breasts with his hands, lovingly grinding his tongue against hers, and-- "Sir, please, may I come now?" she nearly screams, releasing John's cock with a pop. A trail of saliva combined with pre-come links her lips to his slit.

"Count backwards from nine," Sherlock orders.

"Nine, eight, seven," Irene shudders, "six, five, four, three," she squeals, "two, one."

"All right, Irene. Come for me now." He enunciates the last four words.

Irene releases the tension she's been holding in her pelvic region for over 24 hours. She feels her fluids filling the space around S's cock. When she stops coming, S turns off the wand. Irene's clit feels raw, but her insides feel glorious. She never wants S to pull out. "Thank you, sir," she sighs.

Of course, right then, Sherlock does pull out. Slowly. He wants as much of Irene's come as possible to drip onto his penis and not on the floor. He lathers the come all around his prick, and then returns the wand to its drawer.

"You may stand straight now, Irene. And step backwards to where you were originally."

Irene straightens up, distancing her face from John's crotch, and moves away from the table. She can drop her arms now. She rolls her shoulders forwards and backwards to unwind them.

"Now, John," Sherlock calls his attention. "Irene is a good girl, isn't she?"

John doesn't answer. It doesn't feel like a real question.

"Answer me," Sherlock demands.

"Yes, sir. She is," John gives.

"I want to see if you're good, too," Sherlock continues. "You might think you are, by refusing to fuck Irene's beautiful mouth, but you ought to learn that in here, good and bad are defined only in relation to what I want. And I've just decided that what I want is for you to not come at any point during this session."

John became fully erect a few minutes ago, while Irene was moaning around his cockhead. He is still erect now. Irene's face as she came was a sight for him to behold. But his erection does not matter; he will not orgasm, no matter what S does. John won't give S any reason to punish him. How hard can it be to avoid an orgasm for one session? John has had sexual encounters before where he had needed to fake an orgasm, so he knows that not all sexual encounters can make him come.

Sherlock strokes his own cock, covered in Irene's come, as he scans John's whole body from the side. John is slender, with no distinguishing marks on his skin, apart from a bullet wound on his left shoulder. Sherlock finds that his attraction to John is not the same as his attraction to Irene. Irene is like a toy that he sometimes plays with, but wouldn't lend to just anyone, and he would always return it to its original packaging. He wouldn't leave any permanent marks on it, not even his initials. John, on the other hand, is like a new, unique machine that is challenging Sherlock to reverse engineer it. Sherlock wants to slice John's skin open, watch his cogs turning inside, and then sow him back up again.

***

Sherlock was in prep school when he realised he was bisexual. He had developed a crush on a male classmate, some time after his female crush moved away. In sixth form, it occurred to Sherlock that he might be pansexual, when he agreed to fondle the breasts of a 35-year-old post-operative transsexual, in exchange for a pack of cigarettes. Sherlock simply didn't care about genitals beyond the fact that stimulating them could get him things he wants.

After sixth form, in his first couple of years at Cambridge, Sherlock discovered drugs. At the time, he was not yet of age to access his trust fund, so he sometimes allowed dealers to use his cock, mouth, nipples, hands or arse, in exchange for their wares (usually cocaine). Somehow, he could always tell which dealers or junkies were free from disease, based on minuscule details that he would pick up during his interactions with them. Sherlock figured he had good intuition, good luck, or both. In any case, he was careful with his drug use and with sex, to the extent he deemed reasonable.

Sherlock did have intellectual pursuits while in uni. He was enrolled in the Department of Chemistry, but he also took courses in materials science and engineering, purely out of interest. After four years, he graduated with a Master of Natural Sciences degree, although his marks were nowhere near excellent. Over all, he spent more time on indulging his drug habit than on his schoolwork. Fortunately, one of the benefits of cocaine use is prolonged alertness, so as long as he attended enough lectures, he learned.

A week after Sherlock graduated, he moved permanently out of the Holmes estate and into a London flat being let by a widow, Mrs. Hudson. He occupied 221B Baker Street, excluding the room upstairs, which he didn't need. Now having graduated, he could access his trust fund, so he was able to pay rent, and buy food, drugs and other necessities. He remained promiscuous, but now he engaged in sex mostly for his own pleasure.

After one year of Sherlock's languishing, his older brother Mycroft heavy-handedly offered to supply him materials for any chemistry and engineering experiments, in exchange for drug rehabilitation and getting a job. Mycroft, an MI6 officer, was the only one in the family who knew about Sherlock's post-graduate activities. Their parents, the well-meaning Siger and Violet, knew about Sherlock's drug use while in uni, but they didn't realise how addicted Sherlock was. And as far as they know, Sherlock's little drug phase ended before graduation. They also think that soon after graduation, Sherlock started working at a private chemical laboratory in London.

Mycroft was persuasive. In the end, as a compromise against getting a job, Sherlock promised to pursue a doctorate degree. Before he returned to Cambridge, he stayed as an inpatient at a rehab facility for 13 days while under detoxification. Afterwards, he followed a strict, personalised outpatient program. Mycroft supported him (meaning he made sure Sherlock adhered to the rehab program) and kept the whole thing a secret. Sherlock's addiction waned, and he has since been clean, apart from a handful of exceptional incidents.

Sherlock added the upstairs room of 221B (now his lab) to his lease during his first year in Cambridge's three-year Engineering PhD program. He leased 219B and built his sex room in year three.

Now, here he is, the gainfully employed, drug-free owner of two sex slaves. Life has worked out, he thinks.

***

Sherlock takes several items from the drawers under the bondage table -- shock therapy nipple clamps, three remote-controlled bullet vibrators, and a tube of lube. He sets them on the table, next to John. "Since you opted out of fun earlier," Sherlock tells John, "I think Irene and I will go ahead and have fun by ourselves. Using you, of course, but like I've said, you're not allowed to come. If you do, I'll send electric shocks to your nipples. Or worse." Sherlock applies lube onto John's nipples and attaches the clamps onto them.

John grunts. He is still hard.

Sherlock strokes his own cock with his left hand. With his other hand, he uncaps the tube of lube and pushes some of the contents out, coating his right index finger, which he then uses to poke around the rim of John's arsehole.

"Oh my god, oh my god, please don't do this," John says.

"Your body is mine, John Watson," Sherlock says as he positions his finger for penetration. As he pushes his finger into John, he squeezes his own cock.

John squirms and groans. He tugs hard at his wrist restraints, causing mild chafing. His legs flail from side to side, up in the air.

"Lovely," Sherlock says. His finger is still inside John, up to the first knuckle. He pulls out and lets go of his cock in his other hand, so he can pour a generous amount of lube onto both of his hands. His left hand then returns to his cock. His right index finger penetrates John up to the second knuckle, and then bends towards the front of John's body. Sherlock twists his finger 180 degrees and then bends it in the opposite direction. He straightens it again, and then pushes the whole finger inside John.

The abductee is enjoying this so far (though he won't admit it), but he knows that this will become painful when S adds more fingers. And S does add a second digit.

Sherlock scissors his fingers inside John. Once the hole adjusts, Sherlock endeavours to seek John's prostate. He finds it and rubs it relentlessly, until John is squirming and groaning again. Sherlock stares at John with a predatory grin. He pulls his two fingers out, and once again coats both of his hands with lube. This time, he wraps his left hand around John's stiff prick, which has been dripping pre-come on his stomach. Then he inserts three fingers into his boy toy's hole.

John gasps. He wishes he could stop making all these sexual excitement noises. He doesn't want to give S any encouragement. But he can't help it; he has nothing to bite down on.

Sherlock strokes John's cock as he loosens him. Soon he adds a fourth finger. When he is satisfied with the preparation, Sherlock pulls his fingers out and lets the cock go. John wheezes. Sherlock applies lube onto one of the bullet vibrators, and then pushes it past John's rim. He clicks the remote control to turn it on. The vibration makes John squirm again. Sherlock smiles wide, his eyes dark and focused. He stops the vibration, and then applies lube onto his penis, mixing it with the traces of Irene's come. He positions himself at John's entrance, and then pushes forward. He penetrates John slowly but without pause, until his entire shaft is buried. John is murmuring a litany of "oh god oh god oh my god". His eyes water.

Sherlock rocks his hips. He pulls back just one inch or two, and then pushes in again completely. He does this a few times, until John's walls feel snug around his cock. Then he reaches for the vibrator control with a glint in his eye. He clicks it. The egg inside John makes a low, muffled whirring sound. It sends sparks of pleasure along the length of Sherlock's cock and out to the rest of his body.

The vibration makes John's whole body shiver. He feels a small hill of orgasm forming in his belly. He needs to stop it before it becomes a mountain, and then an erupting volcano.

Sherlock stops the vibration, and then slowly pulls out, more than halfway. Then he rams into John with a self-satisfied grunt. He rams his cock into John again and again.

The bound man yells every time S's cock hits his prostate, which encourages S to aim for the bundle of nerves with each thrust. S is hitting his target on 3 out of every 4 thrusts by the time John shouts, "Please, stop! I can't hold it in any more!"

Sherlock doesn't stop. He replies, punctuating every word with a maddeningly accurate thrust, "That. Will. Teach. You." He then grabs John's cock and balls, and squeezes them.

"Please, stop! I can't!"

Sherlock doesn't stop pounding into John, but he lets go of his cock and balls. Sherlock turns on the egg and fucks John quicker. Every time Sherlock buries his full cock, he feels the egg in a slightly different spot. He groans. It takes just a few more thrusts, and he is coming inside John.

John comes, too.

Sherlock pulls out, but leaves the egg vibrating inside John. "Oh, you're naughty. You're going to have to be punished, Dr. Watson. That was too soon. We're not nearly done with you."


	2. Reduction

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock lets Irene play dominatrix. He teaches John a lesson.

John shivers. The egg continues vibrating inside him, while S's come slowly drips out of his hole. John's cock is going limp, his own come is cooling on his stomach, and he is feeling increasingly sore from S's pounding and the still-buzzing egg. He tries to push the egg out of himself, but his insides are slippery and he can't get a good grip using his walls. He is also more than a little spent.

Sherlock ties his robe closed, and then takes the egg's remote control in one hand. "If I turn off the vibrator and take it out of you," he looks at John, "would you know what to say to me afterwards?"

John feels tired, used, and undignified in his position. "I would thank you."

"Will you?" Sherlock asks.

"Yes."

"Yes what?"

"Yes," John remembers, "sir."

"Fine, then. But you are not off the hook." Sherlock clicks the off button for the egg.

"Thank you, sir," John sighs in relief.

Sherlock applies lube onto two fingers and pushes them into John. He scissors his fingers, searching for the egg. When he finds it, he presses it between his two fingers, and then pulls out all three objects at once.

John grunts and breathes hard. "Thank you, sir," he says between breaths. He is genuinely grateful that there are no more foreign objects in his body. His eyes tear up.

"My dear Watson, don't act like this is over." Sherlock goes to the far side of the table, where John's hands are tied, and takes something from a drawer on that side. "But it would do you well to remember your manners from now on -- saying thank you and please, et cetera."

Some silent moments later, John feels a needle in his neck.

***

After John passes out, Sherlock climbs onto the table. He unties John's ankles, leaving the ropes hanging from the gymnastic rings. He brings John's legs with him as he climbs down, and then lets them dangle off the edge of the table. He takes a plastic penis cage from a drawer and secures John's cock inside it.

Irene watches him work.

"There's something I want you to do, Irene," Sherlock says as he goes back to the other side of the table and unties the ropes restraining John's wrists. "I want you to dominate John."

The bondage table is seven feet long and three feet wide. On it, Sherlock can tie someone down in an X position, with the arms and legs straight and open. There are steel loops on the four corners of the table, and a number of drawers below the surface. Right now, John is lying on his back, with his head in the middle of the table, so his arse is right on the edge. The ropes that were tying his wrists to their respective steel loops were four feet long, each.

After explaining to Irene what he wants her to do, Sherlock turns John over onto his stomach. He is careful not to dislodge the clamps on John's nipples. He then re-ties John's wrists to the loops at two of the table's corners.

Now Sherlock moves to the front of the table where John's legs and cock are dangling. Sherlock spreads John's legs apart and secures his ankles, using ropes tied to more steel loops at the bottom of the table's legs.

***

When John regains consciousness, he feels pressure on his nipples and cock. He moves his hips backwards to give a couple of inches of space between his crotch and the table, but he finds that this doesn't help; it's not the table that's putting the pressure on his cock. He lifts his head, neck and chest to give his nipples some air, and thankfully this does help ease the pressure there.

But then he feels electric current coursing into him through his nipples, and he drops his torso with a thud and a yelp.

"I did tell you," Sherlock says. He is standing to the side of the table, with a small remote control in his hand. He presses a button, and another electric shock sweeps through John's body.

The shock feels more painful than tingly, but John knows the current is not strong enough to cause damage. He tightens his jaw and closes his hands into tight fists.

Sherlock walks over to John's arse and touches his cheeks. The touch startles John, as if he were expecting pain instead of fingers grazing his skin. Sherlock grabs two of the implements laid out next to John on the table. 

He applies lube onto his fingers, then he inserts two fingers into John's hole.

"Oh my god, no, please," John whines. He drops his head, letting his forehead and nose touch the table.

"Who owns your body, John?" Sherlock asks.

John sobs. "You, sir."

"Correct." Sherlock inserts a third finger. It isn't hard to open John up again.

When S pulls his fingers out, John feels silicone poised at his opening. It enters him gradually. It is bent, and only about three inches long. The tip of it touches his prostate, and he squirms.

Sherlock sends an electric current through his nipples.

Before John recovers from the shock, he feels the thing inside him vibrate. His entire body shakes, as he realises that the thing is a prostate massager.

"So, John," Sherlock turns off the vibration and walks back to the side of the table. "I'm going to have control over your nipples, while Irene here will get control over your prostate. In addition, she will be delivering one aspect of your punishment. All yours, Irene."

John hears the click-clack of high heels on cement. He can't see it, but Irene is wearing a blue silk dressing gown, one of Sherlock's. Earlier, while John was knocked out, Sherlock had asked her what she needed to get back into character as a dominatrix. She had replied, "high heels and a piece of your clothing, sir". Sherlock had smiled at that.

John tries to remember Irene's enumeration of potential punishments, in an attempt to anticipate his next few minutes or, god forbid, his next few hours. Yesterday Irene mentioned beatings with a paddle, whip or cane. She also mentioned weights being attached to nipples. John steels himself for a thrashing.

Irene's hair is down now. Her right hand is holding a whip. She is free except for a metal clasp around her left wrist, onto which a rope is attached. The other end of the rope is tied to a gymnastic ring hanging from the ceiling. The long rope allows her quite a bit of room to move around. She clears her throat. "Count each blow, John." She strikes across John's thighs.

He groans. "One."

And again. "Two."

And again. "Three."

John keeps his head down.

It comes back to Irene, how beating a person feels like. When she strikes again, the tip of the whip breaks the sound barrier.

John feels sharp pain. "Four."

Irene hits John's thighs alternately a few more times, and then she strikes him vertically downwards across his lower back. He screams. 

"Ten." He huffs.

Irene turns the prostate massager back on. The targeted vibration turns the throbbing warmth in John's thighs into a singularly pleasant sensation. He moans.

"Good boy," Irene says. "You're right where we want you." She glances at S, whom she is hoping to impress. S gives her a small smile.

Keeping the vibration turned on, she hits John on the lower part of his buttocks.

John feels the hit on the massager. "Hnng, eleven." His cock starts to expand inside its plastic cage.

On the next hit, Irene breaks skin on John's left thigh. 

"Twelve." There is no more room for John's cock to grow. He pumps his hips, as if pushing his caged cock against the side of the bondage table would give him any respite.

Sherlock sends an electric current to John's nipples. "Stop that," he orders.

John stops thrusting. He receives more blows, some on his thighs, others on his arse. All the while, the massager vibrates relentlessly. John feels a particular pleasure every time the whip hits the lower part of his bum.

"Eighteen, oh god, please, stop," John pants.

"Describe how you're feeling, John," Sherlock says.

"Too warm, throbbing all over, orgasm building up but restricted. Sore."

"Carry on, Irene."

John whimpers. Irene breaks skin in more places, all over John's thighs, arse, and a few on his lower back.

"Twenty-six, please, please, stop," John sobs.

Irene stops the massager. "I was waiting for you to beg twice. You're ready for the next part of your punishment now." She leaves the whip on the table, with the other implements. Then she steps back, giving S room.

Sherlock pulls out the massager. He hands Irene a strap-on dildo. While she's putting it on, Sherlock is applying lube onto the three eggs, and then inserting them one by one into John. Then he turns them all on.

"Oh god." John doesn't know when this session will end. It feels like it never will.

Sherlock climbs onto the table, in the triangular space formed by John's arms and the table's edge. Sherlock lifts John's head. "Open that lovely mouth."

John hesitates briefly, and then obeys.

Sherlock secures a spider gag around John's head, keeping his mouth open. Then Sherlock unties his robe and frees his erect cock. He sits right in front of John's face. Sherlock plants his feet on the table, on either side of John's torso. John's arms are stretched under Sherlock's bent legs. Sherlock says, "Get inside him now, Irene."

Irene pushes the dildo into John's arse, which is still fairly loose. Once the dildo is completely inside John, Irene waits for further instructions.

Sherlock pushes his cock into John's mouth. Then he braces himself, laying his palms flat on the table, on his sides. He puts most of his weight on his palms and his feet, and then rocks his hips forwards and backwards, fucking John's mouth. "You can move now, Irene."

John feels helpless. His wrists and ankles are tied; he has nowhere to go. Cocks are pushing into his holes from both directions. He looks up at S, tears falling down his face.

Sherlock stares at John, expression darkening. His cock grows even fuller inside John's mouth.

By now, the vibrations inside John's anus are just a dull ache. The pressure of plastic, tight around his cock, is just a dull ache. The lashes on his thighs, arse and lower back, as well as the clamps on his nipples, are all just a dull ache. John feels like his body has been reduced to two holes that exist to accommodate cocks. Nearly all of the sensational input into his brain consists of the two cocks pounding into him. He feels humiliated, and far removed from the respectable army doctor who saved lives on the battlefield. How did his life come to this? Is the rest of his life going to be this way? He feels exhausted just thinking about fighting this new fate of his, for the rest of his life. He relaxes all his muscles, as though he is giving up.

Sherlock feels it. He feels the moment when John lets go, when John decides to simply lie there and take what Sherlock is giving him. Sherlock knows that John is not giving up permanently; he is merely giving up the current battle. This is only natural; Irene did not surrender either after only two sessions.

Sherlock thrusts faster and deeper into John's mouth. The head of his cock touches the back of John's throat a few times, and then Sherlock comes. 

He doesn't pull out of John's mouth when he's finished. "You can stop, Irene," he says.

Irene stops thrusting, but keeps the dildo plugged into John.

Sherlock reaches for the eggs' remote controls, and switches them all off. Then he looks over John's body, with his crotch at one end and Irene at the other. "Beautiful," he says of the whole ensemble. He unbuckles the spider gag and removes it as he pulls out of John's mouth. "Swallow," he commands.

John swallows the come in his mouth. He slurps loudly as he pulls in the come that has pooled around his teeth. He then licks the come that has started dripping down his chin.

"Good boy," Sherlock commends. He climbs off the table. He gestures for Irene to pull the dildo out and step back. Sherlock inserts two fingers into John's arse and fishes out the eggs. He puts them back in the pile beside John on the table. Sherlock then takes a string of anal beads and pushes the whole string into John. "I know you can hardly feel these right now, given every other raw spot on your body," he tells John. "I'm going to wait a few days, and when I take these out, you will definitely feel them."

Sherlock walks towards the side of the table and delivers an electric shock to John's nipples. "Look at me," he says.

John turns his head to the side.

"Who owns your body, John?"

"You, sir," John says quietly.

"Good. And how do you feel now?"

John blinks. "Tired."

The clamp buzzes. "Wrong answer."

"Tired, sir."

The clamp buzzes. "Try again."

John thinks. "Grateful, sir."

"And what are you grateful for?"

"For..." John isn't sure what S wants him to be grateful for. He decides to be honest. "Grateful that you're done with me, sir."

Sherlock laughs. "I will never be done with you, John. But today's session is over." Sherlock takes the clamps off John's nipples, which sting as blood rushes back into them.

Sherlock takes two syringes from a drawer on the far end of the table. He uses one on John and the other on Irene.

***

When John wakes up, he is in his cell. He is clean and naked. His cock is still in the plastic cage, and the beads are still in his anus. His thighs are bound together by tape; it appears his thighs have been shaved. His wrists are in front of his chest, tied to each other and to a metal collar around his neck. He frowns.

When Irene wakes up, she is in her cell. She is freshly washed, wearing a white cotton camisole and matching white pants. She smiles and stretches comfortably on her mattress.


	3. Ten-Second Meteor Burn

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You'd miss it if you weren't looking at the right time.
> 
> (This is more accurately interim care between sessions than immediate aftercare.)

It is May the sixth, Tuesday evening, John's fifth night as Sherlock's captive.

Sherlock has just come home from work. He is fully dressed in a navy blue suit and black leather shoes, no tie.

John is under sedation and will be for several hours. His entire body lies flat on the bondage table, without being tied down onto it.

Irene is likewise sedated in her cell.

John is naked except for a collar around his neck. He is lying on his stomach, with his arms at his sides, legs straight, and head turned sideways to avoid squishing his nose.

Sherlock has removed the plastic cage for John's cock, but the anal beads are still inside him.

Sherlock uses surgical scissors to cut the layers of tape binding John's thighs together. When the tape comes off, it takes eight plasters with it. Sherlock had plastered the wounds that John got on his thighs from the whipping two nights ago. He plastered only the ones that would get in the way of the tape, which he put in place so that John would be unable to open his legs and remove the anal beads.

Sherlock looks at John's wounds, on his thighs, arse and lower back.

He kisses wherever there is broken skin. Whenever his lips pick up a drop of John's blood, he licks it.

Then Sherlock watches for a few minutes, as John stays still.

Later he applies salve onto John's wounds, puts new plasters on them, and then tapes John's thighs back together.

He turns John over, onto his back, then puts John's cock back in its cage. He re-ties John's wrists to each other and to the collar. Then Sherlock puts John back in his glass cell.


End file.
